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THE BOY PHOENIX 



OR 



^uttHiw ^gain^l ^l^oti^iti^ 

A DRAMA IN FIVE ACTS. 

— BY- 



Copyrighted, 18S7. 

bvj. robert bo ver. 

-■ '-'n/ 

All rights reserved. A. 1|PP7/^ 



MODKL PRINT, 

Shenandoah.Penn'a. 



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3 71 



TMPS2-008684 



^^1 iMi 



THE BOY PHOENIX. 



■[o]- 



,A-CT I. 



ScENEJl. The front of a dwelling in 1g. Bob 
Long sitting on a nail keg. Nail kegs R., and l., 
of door. Bob playing banjo and singing as the 
curtain rises. 

Bob— Don't crowd on your neighbors I'd ad- 
vise you. 

With the thought that you'll triumph and win 
for friends will criticise you 
When I flap up thetruinph card again. 
(Enters Edwin kIe.) 
Edwin— Well done, boy, your voice should 
procure you a place on the stage. 

Bob — Edwin James, 30 u here? I should have 
as soon expected a visit from old nick himself. To 
what do I owe this honor? 

Edwin — To what? Why to my desire to see 
to tiie wellfare of my relatives and acquaintances 
and you being my cousin, I could not pass you by 
without loejkiug in upon you. How do you get 
along boy? 



Bob — How? Well sometimes this way, and 
sometimeathat. I am not at present Bohemianiz- 
ing it with as little nourishment as mother mick- 
analy can spare"dfter feeding sixteen little Mick- 
analys. [Edwin twist miistHi'he] HaveuH got 
down to bell pulling afrer cold vitilsyet; however 
a3 you no doubt supposed. 

Edwin — I confers I am surprised that you still 
hold you head above water, [sils down on nail keg 
L., of crossing legs] I fail to see how you can exit 
after getting suspended from employment at Hoyer 
and Read^s 

Bob — Through your instrumentality my lege 
Liord- "But it is a saying that a toad is not always 
killed when stepped on'' which aj^plies to my case. 

Edwin— (au^ryj [ ha i nothing to do with 
your discharge, [twisting end of raoustacli] You 
stole money and it was only through Boyer and 
Read's legiency that you escaped a term in Sing 
Sing prison which you deserved. 

Bob — (coolly) You're a^liar! It was alia ron- 
spiracy on your part with one of the foremen to 
have me ousted. But never mind Edwin James , a 
day of reckoning is in store between you and me. 
Yet lam a boy in years, but as noble says in the 
Phoenix. |"I have an arm as strong ag the man I 
have to grapple with." You'll find you havea man! 
to flfght in me , even though it will take four years 
to bring me to twenty-one yesterday I was seven- 
teen, and I celebrated the event by four hours pract 
icina" at tlie gyjunasium, and la,2:er beer at BjU' 
arouv.dthe corner. A lolly time we Boehmi ms 
have. And now Edwin James, since you huve 
honored me with a visit.let us]come to a permanent 
understanding. 

Edwin— Exac'Jy. [oflters Bob cigar] Smoke. 

Bob — (with a wave of the hand) No thank you 
I never smoke in the presence of greater villians 
than myself. It is conlamenarion to the atmosph- 
ere. I only shortly ago finished a pipe over the 
knotty problem of how I was going to raise twenty 
five cents to get a square dinner with. 



Edwin— Let me loan you a dollar? [puts hand 
in pocket.] 

Bob— Oh! no, guess I ana not that hard up yet 
i d go without grub a month before i'd accept a 
penny of the monej' which you gamble for That^e 
worjie thau stealing, in my estimation. Now, to 
business, I understand that my uncle and yours 
is about to resign hisj claims upon this life, and 
one or the other of us must become the possesier of 
their wealilj. 

Edwjn — 1 believe that is the (ieciseonof the 
medical Irornety, and so it again turns out that 
we are rivals in fortune as in love. 

Bob— Correct! Rivals, andea<^ has an equal 
show. 1 thiiik my show is i.hout as gt»o.l;vs yours 
mores ) if you do not instill posiosi intu my un- 
cles mind, as you did into that of Florence Thorn- 

ly. 

Edwin — Your opinion of me is not very ex- 
alted, it appears. 

Bob— (with a laugh) No, not above par. We 
villains are not given to compliments, you know 
strange as it may seem. 

Edwfn— Hump, class yourself with villains, I 
am u geutleman. 

Bob— Oh ! you are? Since when, pray? 

Edwin— Always, boy. I dare you to say you 
ever knew the time when I was not a gentleman. 

Bob— Ha, ha, Edwin James, gentleman and 
gambler. Thatsouuus well enough among.such as 
you associate with, but not down here. Don't dare 
me to do auythmg, beloved cojsiu, it's daugeuus. 
An yt)ue from Delaware to Hudson, will tell you 
who Bob Long is. 

Edwin — 1 don't need to inquire, nor did I 
come here to compromise. I came here to make! 
you promise not to interfere in this inneritance bus 
iness until after Rilph Long has shuffled ofl thig 
mortal coil. (Bob commences drumming on his 
banjo) 

Bob — You came to make me? 



Edwin — I came to make you. See here, (draws 
paper from pooket) this is a warrant for your ar- 
rest for burglary. You were in Ralph Long's house 
last evening, and were seen to leave by way of the 
window, after failing to attain some unknown ob- 
ject. Three person? saw you, one of the three 
being your faithful loving cousin — myself I have 
but to place this document in the hands of the 
nearest police oflftcer, to insure you a ride in the 
ia.n to the central and then to HingSing. 

Bob -Ha, ha! 

Edwin— What do you mean? (shifts seat) 

Bob— Go on andonl'^r mv irrest Send me to 
the county prison if you lik^, and while there, E 
shall write a sensatiiin bo'^k about the sudden death 
of Daisy rluffhes at the Divis house. (Edwin leaps 
to his feet, stageers liack, grasps the air for support 
glazing eyes and exclaims.] 

Edwin— You you 

Bob — Know enough about the matter to hang 
you higher than H-iuian .if you are aware of the 
nature and attitude of Haman's predicament. Let 
me advii^e you not to crowd on your neighbors 
Eiwin James, least they crowd back. 

Edwin— (very angry) [Ml kill you! 

Bob— Haven't the least doubt but you vvill try 
to, but that isn't saying; you'll accomplish your 
aim Edwin James, we two are cousins, taking 
hands in two games of cards — one for hearts and 
one for diamons, but understand that I will match 
queens against your knaves. I am a boy, and you 
area man; I am a Bohemian— you a gambler; I 
am a loafer— you are a rascal. Both are to contend 
for the Longs inheritance; you will combiie force 
with villiany, and we will see who will come out 
best. 

Edwin — Thank you. (removes hat an 1 gloss- 
ing hat with coat sleeve) I see you are disposed to 
play this hand against me. I am not one to back 
out; still I have a proposal to make you. (replaces 
hat) As I understand it, our unc!e's property real- 
estate, bonds and ready cash amounts to some- 



9. 

thing like one million ; i'll give you fffty thousand 
dollars if you will clear for Europe, and never 
come back. 

Bob— Which I decline. 

Edwin— (rising) Then we are to be enemies? 
Bob— Enemies to the last! 
Ebwin — Be so, then look out for me. 
Bob— You will do well to look out for yourself 
Remember that Bob Long, the young vagebond 
and Bohemian is nor the dog to lay down and die, 
when there is anything to to live for; though a boy 
in years, he has the heart and brain of a man! 
With teeth as sharp 
And muscles strong 
And scent as keen 

And claws as long 
As a wildcat in it's lair! Eh? 
Edwin— As you like, I am your enemy, thea 
henceforth it is war declared between us? 

Bob — It is war declared between us. Cuning 

against scoundreiism — ingenuity against villainy, 

wit against brute force, and Cousin against Cousin. 

Edwin— Cousin against Cousin? So let it be. 

[Edwin bows and exits lIe,] 
Bob— And so my fine Cousm It is war bitter 
war between us and Cousin against Cousin (rising) 
Well I guess I can stand it if he can, now old boy 
Joe (tapping banjo) we will have to put you away 
and I will go and do some spotting ; but I had 
better remove these harries away or as some one 
will be to fresh, [removes harries from stage] Now 
Edwin James, 1 will spot you in every -move you 
make against me. And so let it be Cousin against 
Cousin. [Bob EXITS lIe] 

[o] 



Scene 2. A room in 4g., in the home of Flor- 
ence Thornley. Table i^-lE,, sofa rIe., piano or 
organ lSe., chairs in proper places. Edwin sitting 
on sofa, enters Florence Thornley. as scenes are 
shifted from ue. 



10. 

Edwin— (rising) My dear Miss Thornley ! 
(grasping both hands of Florence aud gazing into 
her eyes) How delighted I am to see you once 
more! You are look sweetly, fresh aud winning 
this morning aud if I were a canabale I 

Florence— (with a laugh) You would eat me, 
no doubt. 

Edwin— You are as bewitching as ever; but 
you must excuse me, dear Miss Florence, (both sit 
down on sofa) for calling upon you so soon, morn- 
)ugbeiiig a poor time to call. But I am going to 
Philadeiphia. at twelve and wanted to bid you 
good by. 

Florence — Indeed? I am glad you called. Do 
you intend to stay in Philadelphia? 

Edwin— I hardly know. Perhaps I shall, as 
there is nothing to keep me here, that I know of 
unless it would be one thing. I have a few friends 
but it is an old established fact that the best of 
friends must part. 

Florence — Of course. But no doubt, your 
friends would n)iss you. Mr. James, I among the 
rest, as you havo been a frequaut visitor here 
since papa death 

Edwin— Aud a very interested visitor too dear 
friend. I am a man who has seen my share of the 
bright and dark sides of life, I have moved in the 
best of social circles and have seen many ladies 
noted for their wealth, beauty and personal worth. 
But believe me, I have never found the idol of my 
heart until 

Florence— Be carsful Mr. James. Such words 
as are on your tonguegshould not bespoken in haste 
they are words ycu may be sorry for in the future. 

Edwin— Ob! no Florence dear! I shall never 
regret them. Let me out with it — let me tell you, 
above all women on the face of this fair earth=-that 
I worship you, blindly, passintily, as man can lova 
but once in a life time; as man never loved before, 
say Florence that you will become my wife. 

Florence— Mr. James, I have heard you 
through, and am flattered by your kind offer, but 



11. 

I am uot at liberty to give you an answer yet. You 
probably know thutyou have a rival, who, though 
he has never told me he loved me, I have every 
reason to belive does. And I think a great deal of 
him. Mr. James, does not the vision of Daisy 
Hughes, sometimes haunt your dreams? (Edwin 
springs up on his feet and stands in front of Flor- 
ence and looks square into her eyes.) 

Edwin— (harse) He told you to say that did 
he? (Bob stands at up:.) 

Florence— He did, Mr. James, and it appears 
that you Lave a skeleton in the closset. 

Edwin— (in a low tone) Ves, yes, eo I have 
but I'll burden my soul no longer. He swore he'd 
steal you away from me, but he shall not triumph, 
Florence, dear. I will tell you all, and know you 
will not reproach me, I have been a man over 
whose life for the past two years a blight has hung- 
I have been fighting against remorsel, my enemies 
and the devil, (getting down on knees) Two years 
ago, I shot and killed the Daisy Hughes by mis-- 
take I was stopping at the Davis house in the city 
and she was stopping at the same place. I paid 
her a few proper attention, and she become infatu- 
ated. I then was forced to dismiss her, but that 
only made matters worse. One night she procur- 
ed entrence into my sleeping — apartment, with 
some unknown intention, and waking from a 
sound sleep and mistaking her for a burglar, I shot 
her through the heart. Oh Florence, how l>iiterly 
I have repented that ail; how I have prayed that 
it might all turn out to be a dream. But such is 
fated not to be the case. The dead con not be re- 
called to life, (dropps head on her lap and acts bs 
if crying). 

Florence — (bending over) Do not grieve. I 
believe you, and you were not to blame. I like 3^ou 
all the better then for telling me. (Edwin rises 
and throws armes around her and looke into her 
eyes and speaking in a very anxious tone). 

Edwin — And you do like me— can you love 
me? Ohl darling only say that you do love me, 
and I shall be the happiest man in the city? 



12. 

Flofence— Edwin I do love you and here is 
my hand and my heart .sjoes with it. (Edwin 
places a ki«s on her cheek* Bob draws his revolver 
and aims as if to shoot but changes his mind and 
replaces revolver). 

Edwin — Bless you my darling. The cloudes 
that have hung over my head for the last two 
years have now been removed by you — you my 
little wife. Sweet Florence will you sing me one 
of the old songs? 

Florence— If it will give you pleasure Edwin 
I will. 

Edwin— It will, (music Florence sings). 

Florence — Are you satisfied now? 

Edwin— That is splended Elorence, but you 
must excuse me now, as I must go and make 
ready for the train if I do not wish to miss it. So 
good by dearest. (Bob exits. Edwin kisses her and 
then goes over to ue., aside) Now my fine birdji 
have caged you with as many lies as you have 
fingers and toes: And as for you my cousin Bob 
Long, I have won myfi rss step and it will not be 
long before I win the next card, (exits we., Flor- 
ence crowses to UE., and looks R. and l., and then 
returns to piano cr organ sitting on stool and lost 
in thoughts). 

Florence— What have I done? Engaged my- 
self to marry this man who facinated me almost 
against my will? Ohl do I love him? Can I be 
contented and happy, when — when Bob Long- 
Bob Long. What a name, yet what a noble heart 
he has. Oht I hope I shall not see him again— 
never, for it will make me regret the past. Ah! 
can it be that I regret my dicision, already, (turn- 
ing around and striking keyes. Bob enters fromR. 
1e. smoking cigar sits down on sofa throwing feet 
on chair back and keeping time with music, sudd- 
enly Florence turns and exclamea) Bob Long? 

B')B — Preseat. GaneiMlly am around ahou 
grub time, you know. Been studing two hours to 
find out how I could buy a square meal with half 



13. 

a dime, which I picked up on Wall street, but got 
stpck; so I concluded I'd wander around here for 
a rouod o' rations. 

Florence— Bob, you are awful! don't you know 
that is a rediculous position to occupy? and, then, 
gentlemen never smoke in the presence of ladies. 

Bob— Oh! they don't, eh? [lying down cigar 
and bracing vp.) Didn't know that before. 

FiiORENCE— Are you hungry. Bob? 

Bob— What if I am? 

Florence— Because I will get you lunch. 

Bob— Oh! no you won't. Bob Long don't 
accept charity, if you please. I was just fooling 
with you about the grub; I came here on different 
buisness. 

Florence— What buisness. Bob? 

Bob — Well this is rather a ticklish way to put 
it to a feller. You might have seen, I'm all atten- 
tion, which would have been just as well. {She 
crose^ over to l., siis r., of tahle.) 

Florence— Well I am all attention then, if 
that is any belter, Bob. 

Bob — That is more buisness like. Suppose you 
come and sit her on the sofa. Miss Florence; maybe 
I could not say my say so scientificly, with you 
sitting: over there. 

Florence— I'd rather not, Mr. Long. 

Bob— But I'd rather you would. {Eising from 
seat and crossing to l., and seizing her b :, thewaiste 
firm y but gently) Come, Florence, you shall not 
trifle with me. {Both cross over to sofa and sit 
down.) Florence, I have come here to tell you that 
I love you, and ask you to take the name of Long 
in exchange for that of Thornly. I am not going 
to give vent to whole yards of nectar — impreg- 
nated effusions, like my cousin a short time ago, 
nor am I going to get down on my knees be- 
fore you. I offer you the love of a Bohemian— a 
rough, honest, but untiring affection, that will 
stand the test oi flood or fire. Perhaps, as I am only 
seventeen, j'ou think me incapable of loving as 
devotiugly as a man of thirty-five, but you are 



14 

mistaken iu that respect. I offer myself, and you 
can except or decline, at your own opinion. I am 
poor, have just five cents on which to commence 
house keeping; not a very entertaining prospect I 
am aware, but many a gal's begun on worse. To- 
morrow Bob Long's going to launch forth into the 
world on a new strike at which he can attain a 
reputation, if he don't make a cent — and a young 
married couple ought to be able to exist on repa- 
tation and love, pretty we\\.{ Florence lays head on 
Bob^s shoulder and iveeps'] You love me and will 
be mine? \^Brushes hair back with a tender motiori] 
Oh! darling say yes, and say that you will break 
the engagement with Edwin James? [Baising her 
head] 

FiiORENCE— iVb.^ wo, 7 cannot. I shall marry 
him Mr Long.^ for I promised him in good faith. 
You should not have come. 

Bob — Maybe not, but I was in the hall, and 
over heard most of my cousin's wooing. {Blslng.) 
I wish you the best of luck and a happy life with 
that man, Florence, {walking to ve.) He, and I 
are enemies— bitter foes, with a fortune standing 
between us. I shall fight him till the game is dead. 
Again and again he may kill me, but, like the 
JPhoenix, I shall each time rise from my ashes to 
continue the battle. Greek sliall meet Greek, b are- 
well, Florence; may my love never haunt you 
like a reproachful! phantom. [Uxits ue., Florence 
rise, then staggers and falls in a faint, closed in 
by a street scene.) 



Scenes. A street in 1g., Bob enters from' 1,1 
E., stopping c, of stage. 

Bob— Edwin James has won. He has won 
this point, and stands ten chances to my one, of 
wining the other. Florence refused me, and by 
Heaven, no girl shall ever have that chance again. 



Henceforth the life of Bob Long, Bohemian, shall 
be devoted to the one sweet object, after the death- 
blow to my love— rev nge! 1 will track and hunt 
Edwin James through life, until he will be glad to 
die to escape me; and that fair, false creature 
whom I have just left— I will make her love me as 
no other woman ever worshiped man; then I will 
spurn her in pav for the dicision of to-day. Ah! 
if life looks bitter now, there will be a day when I 
shall triumph over mine enemies; and to attain 
that triumph, shall be the sole object of my future 
life. [/S'am Reel enters from rIe.] Hello Sam Heel! 
What makes your face beam so furously? [Both 
shake hands.] 

Sam — Because I've struck lie. There's an old 
covey Inquirin' feryou; wants you to take charge of 
a steam yacht, an' run a pleasure excursion down 
the bay to-morrow, for which 3'ou will get twenty 
dollars, spot cash, before startiu'. Sed he heard ye 
kin handle a yacht, as wanted just such a hand. 

Bob— Hurrah! \_Swinging cap.] that is good 
news. Where's the ship that's to sail? 

Ham — At Aldens warf. 

Bob— All right. Tell the old fellow I'll be 
there at seven sharp. Now I've got some^business 
elsewhere. \^lSam exits lIe.] I've got to do it. 
There is no help for it, and >Ae gave it to me, too. 
[Displays chain and locket.] I would that my 
victual container were not so empty, in which ease 
I should not hesitate to waite, for to-morrow I'm 
to have a twenty dollar job. I shall have to do it. 
Ah! here comes Isaac the German Jew. I may be 
able to drive a bargin with him. {Enters Isaac 
Isaacs fromnlE.] 

Isaac— Goot morning, Mr Long. Nice day 
out mit der rain vere de beoples vas so plently, eh? 

Bob— A confounded disagreable day I should 
say, dubiously blue, when a feller's out of rocks. 
What value will you put upon this for a couple of 
days. [Drops locket and chain in Isaac^ s hand.) 

Isaac— Vere from y3u got dish, Boby. I hope 



16. 

dot you vpsQ't pen stealing does tings, eh? 

Bob — No sir; I am no tliief poor though I am. 
That locket was gWen me by my Jady— Jove, but 
poveriy ucces iiales tiiat I must pawn it in order 
to get bead to Stay my stomach. I expect to 
stiikea streak of luck tc day or to-morrow, and 
will redeem itwbeu I gee money. 

IsA^c — Veil Bob'y, you vas a burtv nice poy 
only yod vas pe lazer dan dunder untblitzen. 8dill 
a man somedimeswill get lazy, uad vantter shut 
up the&bop vor a tear. Old Isaac Isaacs is one of 
dem Jewsharps. You vas a nice poy, Bob-y, mit a 
head oq you like a parrel o' carway brandy — sharp 
und keen — und as I like to do a good turn sum 
dimes, I gif you ten toilars an' leven cents, unt 
you keep de watch unt chain. [Off'e7'ing back chain 
locket and inoney; Bob takes it. 

Bob— What! you don't mean to say you give 
this to me without holding the locket for 
security? 

Isaac— Shust ezgactly does, Bob'y, you vas 
a nice poy unt dish vill get you a goot meal unt 
several schooner ofer at Shake Miners. 

Bob — But see here; suppose I never come back 
to settle this debt? Dida't know an old jewsharp 
like you'd trust a Bohemian with so much tin. 

Isaac— Of course Bob'y, of course. If you vas 
not come pack unt pay me, I get's him nefer fear. 
Trust Isaac Isaacs fer does. 

Bob— Just exactly what I intend to do, old 
man; come over and take a cigar at Jakes. {Both 
exit lilE., opened with a room scene. 



Scene 4. A room in 3g., chairs r., and l., cot 
bed Q.^ of stage Boh discovered lying on cot bed 
with Jace doivn. As scenes are shifted, Ruth Mel- 
vine enters from VE., and glides over to cotbed. 

Ruth— Bob. He is asleep. {Sitting down on 



cot bed, and then bends over and strokes his hair) 
1 woader what the matter is? Wake up Bob. It 
is Ruth c'tLue to call on you. {Bob turns over with 
tears in his eyes. ) 

Bob— low, Miss Melvin. {Bracing up.) What 
is there I can do lor you? 

Ruth— What have you been crying about, 
Bob? ( Taking Bob's hands in her's.) 

Bob— What have I been crying ^about, little 
attic angel? {Putting his arm^ around her 
waisteanddra in g her closer.) WeU I'll tell you; 
I got the grand boast, to-day, and have been blubb- 
in^' about it, like a great blubber I am. 

Ruth— The grand boast? I do not understand 
your meaning, B )b? 

BoB—DonH^ Well, in plain language, my 
lady-love has skipp d me and is engaged to my 
cousin, Kdwin James. 

Ruth— 0/i/ dear, is that true? I thought you 
were such fast lover-, and ah'eady engagea. 

Bob— No, never quite engaged, but I always 
calculated she belonged to me and 'vice versa' 
with him. But Edwin popped before I got there, 
and his gift of tongue won her over; I overheard 
the whole tale, and after he departed I put in my 
vote, but it was refused , on account of tender age 
I guess. 

Ruth— Do yon really care so much for her. Bob? 
Are there not others you could be nmch happier 
with, than with her? {glancing at one another) 

Bob— Perhaps it is all for the l;est; perhaps 
there are those with whom I can be happier. 
Thank you for the suggestion, Ruth; it opens up 
another idea of life to me. Ruth, how old are you? 

Ruth — Sixteen, Bob. 

Bob — Sweet sixteen, eh? And those words are 
verified in you; you are a sweet little thing, and 
worth any man's love. I am going to leave New 
York 8f>on, dear, and quit this Bohemian life; I 
was made for something better. Three years hence 
if Providence permits, I will return and ask acer- 



18. 

tain little blue-eyed girl to be my bride. 

Ruth— (in an eager tone) On! Bob, you don't 
mean a word of what you say. 

Bob— Yes I do mean just what I say Ruth, but 
put no hope in it; either you or I may be dead be- 
fore that time. Do you care just a little for me, 

Ruth— Oh, Bob, I love you. {throius her arms 
around Bob's neck) I think I have loved you a 
great while,Bob. 

BoB_And I am very grateful and glad that I 
have one in this wide world to love me, you dear 
^irl. I am your friend, Ruth. I will not say that 
I possess anything like love for you; you could not 
well believe me that I am so fresh f rt m an 
infatiuation for another girl. But wherever I go I 
shall carry your sweet image with me, and think 
of this hour, when a cloud of sunshine has broken 
in to irradiate the darkness of my heart. 

Ruth— OA.' Bob, I know I can teach you to 
love me. Take me now, and make me yours, for- 
ever ; I am not too young. 

Bob— Maybe not; some happy mariages occur 
among even youDger people than you and I, but 
they are fow. Besides, before I enter the stage of 
matrimony, I have a mission to fulfill — a revenge 
to complete and a fortune to make, such as will be 
counted by tens of thousands. {Just as the last 
words are spoken an arm, is seen thrust through 
the ivindoiu with revolver in hand and fires two 
shots, Buth falls on cot, Bob springs to his feet 
and Oudlip enters through tvindow; goes over 
and robs ^Buth and runs hand inBoh'spocket who 
jumps up, grasp Guidlphy the neck, and2)oir>ts 
revolver in his face; (^udlip draws knife from, belt 
and makes a strike at Bob; his hand^ is caught 
by Buth, vjho stands on cot with revolver in left 
hand—Pictu7'es. 



-A.OT IX. 



Scene 1. A room in 4g., in the home of Mr. 
Ralph Long; tableiAJE. cot-bed l2e. chair back of 
cot oed, Ralph Lonp lying on th^. same, safe R.. of 
UE. ju iwln sitting down and leaning on his hands; 
Mutph speaks in a feeble voice. 

Ralph— Yes, the doctors say I am improving 
and shall soon be upon my legs again. If the 
liinl) only continues to mend, and no inflammation 
sets in, I guess the old gent coustitutiou willjcarry 
him through. Uncle Kalph ain't a going to give 
up yet, with gold a dollar, five, if he can help 
himself. 

Edwin — I am glad to here your resolution, 
aud see that you still have a few more chances for 
life left, uncle. ,1 am sure it would grieve no one 
more than I, to see you die when you ought to live 
a good score of years yet. 

Ralph— I don't know about that, nephew. It 
is easy to say it, but I've had a strong distrust all 
along that you were onlyputiing the old man up, so 
as to keep on the right side of him with an eye to 
the future. But I've prepared every thing, and 
those that do right, shall be served right. 

Edwin— Sarely you wouid not accuse me of 
villianous motives; uncle when I have never 
given you cause; I am surprised. 



2:). 

Ralph— Apparently! Perhaps you have no de- 
signs upon my wealth— would be well pleased if I 
were to leave it to some one else than you? {negro 
puts head in doorivay) 

Edward— Exactiy. You can leave it all to 
charity, and I shall be just as well pleaded {^wrmn^r 
head) Hello! you black lubber, what do you want? 
(withdraws head) 

Ralph— It's a worthless scamp Tom sent in 
his place to-day. If I were as limber as 1 u>ed to 
be, I'd flog him for his meddlesomeness. 

Edward— He needs it. 

Ralph— By the way, nephew, what would you 
say if I should tell you that I had left every cent 
to Bob Long? {negro puts head in door-way] 

Edwin — I should say you were an old ignora- 
mus sirf 

Ralph— And why? 

Edwin — Because, my Bohemian cousin is 
dead— furnish hed food for he Hudson bay, four 
days ago. 

Ralph— What! Bob dead? 

Edwin— Exactly. Was blown up in a yacht 
explosion. 

Ralph — I remember of hearing something 
about that fire and bursting up. The boy was sus- 
pected of setting the tire? 

Edwin — Yes sir. 

Ralph— And escaped? 

Edwin— We thought so, at first, but concluded 
not afterward. 

Ralph— Wef You were along, then? 

Edwin— I was. 

Ralph— I had a dream about that disaster. I 
thought the boy was on the boat — down in th»^ 
engine-room; had a big man attacked and bound: 
him then set tire to the boat, and all hurriedly 
left the boat but the boy. 

Edwin— And he— did he escape? 
Ralph — I cannot tell. Only time will prove 
that, nephew. Ha ha! what makes you so whiter 



21. 

Edwin — Aheiu! I was not aware that I am 
while. 

Ralph — You were for a moment. Perhaps it 
was t)uly a rus-h uf blood to your cowardly heart. 
( s dwin Leaps from his chair and bends over Ralph 
and spe 'k.i in a husky voce. 

Edwin - What do you mean? I mean to know! 

KAL.PH— Nothing nothinj<! uotliing I assure 
you. It vvaH only a sHp of tlie tongue. 

Edwin— Ah! yes, curse you, a slip of the 
tongue, eh? Well look out that you have no more 
slips* of a like nature. I'd as lieve choke the life 
out of you as no , if you were to anger me again. 
Bui come; it's lime for your medieine. {wnlkHover 
to table and pours medicine in tea-spoon and then 
returns to his bed-side.) Here is your medicine 
uncle {drop^ spoon and puUs out revolver, head 
disappear syVeu tl)<,usand|furies there's ihat accur - 
edni};ger again! {runs up to ve.. and then returns 
to table. 

Ralph— Why do you do that? One would 
think that you wished to murder me. 

Edwin — I want to keep that iupuldia 
Afric.m ouu {hands Aalphthe spoon and ne take 
the medic ^te. 

Ralph— Ugh! what a nasty taste. Are you 
sure is was ihe same I have been taking nt-phtw? 

Edwin — Perlectly sure, {picks up book and 
looks at it) DonH think I would poison you. (Ad- 
win bends over Ralph and then exclaims ) Now is 
my time. The ola man sleeps, and I have it all 
in my own hands. First the safe; then the last 
stroke that is t place me forever above pecuniary 
want. Aha! Edwin James, you're a lucky dog, 
{opens the safe and takes out a paper) This must 
belt, [opens paper'] Yes. Ijast Will and Testa- 
ment oi Ralph Long. Ha! by heaven, the old 
man has left every dollar tome. And be shall 
never live to alter I'his will! A bird in the hand 
is worth two in the bush. Let me see, dated May 
17th — that was day before yesterday — at half past 



22. 

ten o'clock a. m. Ha, I remember, qo^v, that a 
legal looking gentleman called then. One called 
at four, but I do not thifik lie w&h a lawyer. Prob 
ably this is the last will; there can be no doubt 
about thai— Hello! hat is this? {picks up a slip of 
paper} Isaac Isaacs, Pawubro.icjr,— Isaac Isaacs a 
Jew pawnbroker. How came that in this will? 
What is the meaning? There surely is something 
in this, but what? I must call upou this Isaac 
Isaacs, soon, and see what's to pay. But first there 
is this other work. By Heavens hoU I do murder? 
How else can I attain my oijeci? If I were to let 
him live, he would recover, or at least change fhis 
will, for he already suspects my connection with 
the death of young Long. No! he must die, and 
that quickly, and leave no ull-tale traces. The 
inhaling liquid the Italian gave me will answer 
the purpose, [replaces (he will in the safe then shut 
the safe door and then staggers to his feet) lam 
getting weak and cowardly, when I should be 
dauntless, {pores out brandy] This will fix me in 
the trim for busincKs .{drink fourglas es) It must 
be done, and the sooner tiie belter. The narcotic 
has put him in a sle* p from which it will take 
hours to awaken, [stoop down and picks vp a rug 
and draws a smalt bottle from his pockel and then 
pours the same on the lug rep aces the bottle and 
then lays rug on Ba ph' s face then paces up and 
down the room then glides ower to Ralph and 
removes rug,) He is dead— -dead, and I'll defy 
man or devil to detect human agency in the job, 

and I am now the master of this house The 

sole undispited heir of the Long's heritage. Aha. 
Bob Long; I WiSh you well in your bed in the 
bottom of Hudson Bay, but it would be greater 
satisfaction to me if you could know of my comp- 
lete triumph, {negro puts head in doarway Edwin 
turns and covers negro closed in by second scene. 



23. 

Scene 2 A street and a iront of a dwelling 
with a larpe piece of pa e hoard tacked < n the 
door rvith the following words printed on. which 
Edwin reads: 

Edwin — Hard times. Sold out, paid my 
debts, uud gone-west, Isu'C Isaacs. This msy be 
all right about the sudden <learing out <f that 
rascally Jew. but it does not ai»{ ear so. There is 
Bometliing back (fall this which I cannot uniier- 
Btand, and that it threatens niy fu ure loeace of 
mind, I am almost cert;:iu. The Jew knows about 
that will, else why his name on the accompany- 
ing slip of paj er. Does he poe.s«^bS some knowledge 
concerniniJ: my uncle's affairs, which he thinks lo 
make money oir of in the future. Curse that ne- 
; ro, I'll find out of Torn who he was, and old >- ud- 
lip will have another job. [exits ulE^scene 3 open- 
ed with a ':oo7n.'\ 



Scene 3. A room in the home of I'ldwin Jamea 
in io.tahle c, chairs in proper places ofa r2e. 
JCdwin James sitting r. of table smoiking, enters 
Sam Heel, from ue. and > alks over to sofa and 
rest, /'is feet on the table. 

Sam Reel -Mi. El win Jamei", I believe. 

Edwin- I believe so. Is there not room upon 
the floor for your feet, young man? 

Sam— No, I reckon not wlien yours is about, 
old covey. Didan't come here to be bossed neither, 
come to make inquiries. You were on that yacht 
when she exploded? 

Edwin— No. I was in a boat making for 
shore, at the time. 

Sam— Ah! yes. Where was my pard. Bob 
Long, at this time? 

Edwin— On the boat, it is believed. He set 



24. 

tire to the yacht, and nruat have crept iuto th< 
hold out of sijfht, and blown to atoms. 

8am — Think he was? 

Edwin — I havn't a doubt of it. 

Sam — What a pity ;yoii and that old snoozer 
Gudlip, warn't along. Think Bob Long'a deaii 
then? 

Edwin — I do, most assurdly. Why? 

Sam — Oh! I wanted to be sure, incase he's i 
white win^er|fluther, i've got some buzuess witi 
you. by and by. 'i'ake an optical inventory of mj 
phiz, so that you may remember me. My name U 
Keel — Sam Keel, at your service. (6'am Kxrrs ue 
and Bob Long enters as M. Sardon a'Jreanchmar 
from UE. and crows to E >win and hands hU oarc 
to Edwin who takes it and reads'^ 

EDWli^^Well sir? [sits down.] 

Bob— Well! Mr. Edwin James, I suppose? 

Edwin— I suppose so, along with yourself 
sir. Why pray? 

Bob— VVhy? {catchinp his heal) Weil yoi 
see, I an hunling for an Edwin J-^mes, and yui 
are the man, I expect? 

Edwin — i gue^8 not, there are three other 
in the city by that name. 

Bob— Eh! there are? Didn't find only ou< 
name of the kind upon the director, which \^d nn 
to the couclusi »n ti.at yt-u v\ere the individual. 

Edwin— What do you \n ant of Edwin James 
then? 

Bob— O^i! tha^ dei ends somewhat on^ circum 
stances. Have you or did ^ ou have a cousin bj 
the name of Bob Long? lit was a Bohenaau sor 
of a chap I believe. 

Edwin — Certainly not. We Jameses have n< 
kith nor kin of that name. 

Bob— Ah! then, perhaps I am mistaken. Bu 
maybe you once knew a beautiful girl by the nam* 
of Daisy Hughes. She was enticed from homi 
and ruined by an arrant knave by the name o 
lames, and then assassinated at an ill house, ii 
this city by her benayer. 



25. 

Edwin— Ab! can it be tbat he was so foolish? 
1 did not think him sobiss a coward, {(-iudlin 
ENTERS/rom UE. with black-jack in his hand.) 

Bob— What say? (^dmn rises.) * 

Edwin— Ah! what was . I saying? You are a 
detective, eh? 

Bob — Perhaps. 

Edwin— Then your race is run. Death to you 
and your fraterniry. {^udlip strikes and Bob falls 
to the floor) Is he dead? 

GuDL,iP— Deader'n a door nail. I'll bet you 
drinks! You said death and £ give him a stinger. 
I'll see if any life remains, [^examings Bob] He is 
dead. 

Edwin— Dead! Good Heuvenl I did not mean 
for you to kill him. What shall we do with him? 
He IS a detective and if he does not return iuq»ry 
will be made for him. Then what? 

GiJDLiP— Exactly. We've put our foot in it 
for once! j he fellow's name is Sardon and he 
was as sharp as a weasel. No doubt his misi^ion 
here js known at head-quarter, unle^s he has un- 
dertaken to handle the ctse aloue. lu the former 
case, your only plan is to hid the corpse, and clear 
out. If we can tirat get rid of the body, I will hud 
out if it was known that 8ardon came here, and 
report. Prepare yourself to leave the city for a 
while, any how^ It will be safe. I am going to 
take French leave myself soon. 

Edwin— But, here is this accursed tell tale 
b'^dy; how shall we dispose of that. It must not 
be lound here by heaven. 

GUDLIP— JNo; it would not be well foryou. Is 
there a sewer couueciion in under this house? 

Edwin — Yes, yes; by jove! I had not thought 
of that . There is a large trap in the celler, which 
opens directly into a sewer main. 

GuDi^ip— Then we are all light. Now help 
me to carry him to the celler, {both carry B »b off 
the stape and then return.) It is all right now. 

Edwin— Now Gudiip, you oan make yourself 



26. 

scarse till to-morrow as I uow mu?<t hasten to 
my bririe and gei ready for the weading. [Oudlip 
EXITS /V'om UE. and Ediuin pulls out watch.'] Ah! 
it is nearly two o'clock and 1 atu to be marritd at 
three so I must make all haste for the marrage. 
When I enter this room again I shall be a married 
man. [Edwin exits r2e. Bob enters /rom r ofv 
E. dressed in white and stands R oj UE. J dwin is 
heard speaking to F/orence.)Come, come Flornce, 
dont be po foolish. [Edwin and Flomice enter 
fi'om UE. and go over to sofa Florence sits down 
and turns and discovers Bob who raises his right 
hand as a signal.) 

Bob— Beware! the serpent is coiled to strike— 
the ) hoenix has risen from the iilfaled yaeh's 
ashes; the Bohemian livt-s in the Phoenix, while 
the fishes nil)ble upon the bones of Bob Long m 
the Hudson bay. M. Saroon has t^ken contract 
to build a new sewer; the spirit of Daisy Hughts 
crits lor revenge; thePhoenix will see that she has 
it. Beware, Edwin James, least you tread upon 
the serpent that is distriven to be your death, 
when you least think of it. Beware J^lorence, for 
the love you refused shall yet burn a hole in your 
heart. Beware! [^06 exits ue. Flortnce drops 
hack on the sofa, Edwin staggers ' ver to table and 
falls i to a chair and drops head on table afttr a 
momfnt bvath brace up.) 

Florence— What has bappntd? 

Edwtn — I do not know. Do you know, that 
a conviction is being lorced upon me that Bob 
Long is not dead? 

Florence— Not dead! 

Edwie— Not dead, [walking up and down the 
stage) By some mircle he has escaped the doom I- 
thedoom we supposed to have overtaken him, and 
is hounding us, thinkingtodistroy our happiness. 
But that shall not be, I will give the matter over 
into the hands of the detectives ,and they'll soon 
end his pretty pranks. 

Florence— But, dear Edwin, what did he 



mean by his reference, to the Phoenix, M. Sardon 
and Daisy Hughei-? 

Edwie— Cursed if I know. Some contriving 
of his evil brain. But I, must hasten into town 
and give this matter into the hands of the proper 
authorities. {Bob thrown a basket of flowers from 
UE in front of Edwin) Ha! what, is tliis. {picks up 
basket) Throutrht to D^atli! A thousand curses. 
{kick-i b \sket from sta'je) Tliis is more of the work 
f)f that a<'«'ursHd scat eyrrace, rascal and cou-iti of 
mine. {Bob throws newspap'^r into the ro^m. from 
UE.) [f I— Hello! {picks vp popea and reads) The 
Phoenix — is abro^^d — M. iSardon in the sewer — 
Daisy Hughes in He iven— Edwin James in — hell 
My God what nexi ! (Edwn staggers nndfdl and 
Florences runs over and rest i his head on her knee 
Plcturous. 



28. 



.OT XXX. 



Scene 1. On hoard the Arrow chairs R.& L, 
Edwin <Sc Eforence sitting R. & L. Denver Dice 
standimg c of stage lo'jking tt Edwin very sharp, 

Florence. — You said you wouldn't gamble 
any more Edwin, aud yet you have just come 
from the saloon with that insolent Denver Dice, 
where you have been iosing heavily for hours on 
a stretch. 

Edwin. — Humph ! another curtain lecture, 
eh? Perhaps I've lost some but that does not 
signify that i'ts any of your business. You are 
meddlesome. 

Florknce. — Oh! Edwin! {renting head on his 
shoulder and crying,) why are you so harsh to me? 
"Why will you not be good to me, as when we were 
married? 

Edwin.— Mind your business and stopinter- 
fering, with mine, and I will treat you all right. 
There! There dry up your snifling, or you'll at- 
tract attention. Don't be a baby just because you 
know bow. See: the board is running into yon- 
der shore to load up fresh with wood. Look at the 
darkies upon the pier, {E^win sHps from her side 
and Boh Long enters a« lieheUion Relic enters from 
L, 3 E. with hasket containing oranges. Boo, 
in a squeaky voice.) 



29. 

Bob— Nice orauges shentlemen! Sweet as 
houey from a maiden's lips. {Hands Florence 
an orange.'] 

Edwin.— Ilello Denver Dice, do my eyes de- 
ceive me or is it realy old Rebellion Relic, still at 
his old calling? 

Bob— Guess its the old man, sir, d'ye remem- 
ber the tiine. L)ice, when we asked ter sail on these 
here waters, a few 3 ears ago, when things were 
real lively I tell you and oranges, gents, yes we 
ustd to heve some })reity tough times them days, 
)\o mistake. We had southern gentlemen then, 
who war free with their mouev, and would jps's 
lieve shute as drink. They call n)e Rebellion 
Relic, gents, because I went throu' three wars 
without getting a scratch. Oranges sir, sweet as 
incrusied honey from a young girl's lips. I do as- 
sure you. 

Edwin.— Well Rebelli' n Relic 3'ou may give 
me a .-ound d- zen of jour oranges as I am very 
fond of them {hnnds Bob money and receives 
oranges in re," urn ) 

iSA.M. — Now, Relic, cant you give us a little of 
your experience? \ know your chuck full of anec- 
dotes, and we are dj'iug to hear something to break 
monotony. 

Bob.— Hey? anecdotes, is it? Wal Dice, old 
boy, the old man aiut as good as he used to be— 
lost his memory, after he got blown up with that 
steamboat explosion, several j^pars ago; memory 
went on up toward the skies, while Relic come 
down on a sugar plantation, {points) That gentle- 
man, yonder, Dice, reminds me of a fellow what 
used to run upon that river, whose name was 
Foxey Grimes. He was a notorious old gambler 
and rowdy called him Wild Bill, fer short-and 
probably done more butcherin in his time than 
BsU Hickox out west. Once upon a time hp bus- 
ted a feller's spine in New York, and chucked him 
down into a sewer, where he was found by a 
couple rat-cat chums and fetched to life. Oh! he 



war a terrible cus?i, I (ell ye. kSv)me war afra-iu uf 
bini, for it was calkylated he could lick anything 
that trod tliu decks. One night he cum aboard 
thu boat with a crowd of passengers an I see'd 
rlior WHS blood in his eye, for bestride up an down 
deck like ^ mad bull, no one sed nothin ter 
him, fer he'd 'a' snot e'm, iike's not 
for interfering. He war savage, an by maby he 
began cussin! We didn't kno' the cause, till we 
see a boat put our from ashore, an in a few niiuutas 
a half-dozen planters an a gal came aboard. All 
war armed with revolvers and whips and it looked 
as if some one war going ta get dressed out in 
shape. When W.ld Bil see'd em he swore a lot of 
B'ble names, an he sed, sez ho. '' 'Hear I am, you 
devils, if it is Wild Biil ye wanl!'" 'Which it is:' 
sed of the pladteis and then they rushed upon him 
bound him hand and foot, an '"^ ^achgavehima 
whack with a whip, an each put seven bullets into 
his carcase. 

Fi.orexcp: — Horrible! I never knew such 
horrible crimes were perpetrated in the river boats 
bad as were their reputations. It seems incrcdable, 
sir. 

Bob— But nevertheless a fact, madom. But 
Wild Bill worn't dea *,;not by a long shot. PhoEuix 
like he ris from his bleeding ashes an then last 
planter bed only jist left the boat when Bill sung 
'"I'll bet five-bi.udred dollars I can beat any man 
aboard at a squar game of eueker! (All I ugh) 

Edwin— Hellol here's a novelty. That old 
skinflint has cheated me by selling me a hollow 
orange. Ha! and as I live there a paper ins^ide of it 
{pul's paper out of orange and all the passangers 
croivd around and Bob exVs LSE) Ha! sirange 
leading, I must say. The PhcEnix lives, while 
Bob I «mg lies dead in the bottom of Hudson Bay: 
[Floreiice exitsUE. Qurilip entfrifr"m J22 A", and 
Editnn di^aivs revolver and springs at Oudlip and 
speaks sn harse voice.) The old tramp — what has 
become of him? Quick! speak before I kill you ! 



31. 

GuDLiP— Kill nie? Reckon it wouliin't pay 
you to do tliat, cap. What about the I ramp? 

Edwin — (rm/?(7) Where is he? 

GuDLiP— Who— the old or»uge peddler? 

Edwin— Ye.-^! yes. 

GuDLiP— He's «:ane ashore in a boat which he 
had touiu' alonji^side. 

Edwin— And the gambler, Denver Dice? 

GuDLiP— Went with him. 

Edwin— IVu thousand furies! Why did you 
let tliem escape? One or the other of them was 
the accursed boy we tried to bum in the yacht. 
He is alive and doo^jrinj^ me wherever I go. 

GUDLIP— Bob Long alive? 

Edwin — Yes. alive and lioucding me down to 
deat Ii . {2nits pintal in pocket) 

GuDLip— But Who is ihe Denva Dice? 

Edwin — I knovS' not; probobly some detective 
whom I lie young devil has employed for an ac- 
compli se, 

Gni'LiP — Which is bad for us. In case of 
your death, this i)ropeity you inherited goes to 
young Lonu:, eh? 

Edwin — Yes, I suppose so; in reality he has a 
better ri^hl to it than I. 

GuDDip — Then I should hate to be in your 
tracks, that's all. He'il lay for you and cut your 
throat from ear to eiw^Gydlip 'eaves stage /2'^/ 
Edwin lualks ii}^ and down the stage sevfral imes 
With his hana to his head; Ftorence rises, staggers 
off the stage Vie) 

Edwin — 1 am hunted, hunted — and by what? 
Is it pos^sible llmt Bob Long still lives, and that 
accursed mystery will drive me mad, mad. (cZro^s 
on stage in a Jit; scene 1 closed in by scene 2) 



Scene 2 A room in in \0; Florence and Ed- 
win entering from U E of F, smokiny cigar. 



32. 

Edwin— Well, ray dear, how do you like the 
look of thioe^s in this out of the way place? I 
flatter myself it is just the place for my busiuees. 

Floreisce. — FoT your business. 

Edwin.— Exactly, dear — for my business. I 
have brought you here for a purpose, as you have 
probablo uot guessed. You must now do what I 
requested yon to do sometime ago -sign over your 
pro; erty to me? 

Florence.— No! no never, villian though 
you are Edwin James you shall nottriumpi over 
this. Is it not enough that you have spent all of 
your own available cash, with squandering mine. 
No, I would never sign over my little fortune into 
your hands. 

Edwin.— [cool-r) So you told me before my 
dove, but I would not believe you. I had every 
confidence that I should fix you with force, if not 
with persuasion, and so I brought you to this out- 
of-the-way place, where crime is an indispensible 
luxury, and the inhabitants as bloodthirsty as ihe 
real red skins themselves. So you will see the 
urgent necessity of coming to terms. 

Florence. — No--never! 

Edwin.— You wont? Well then, while I call 
Gudlip in to hold you, it shall be my unpleasant 
duty to cut your fair throat from ear to ear. {Flor- 
ence cry in horror. 'S 

Florence— Oh! have mercey. You would 
not be so cruel? 

Edwin. — Sorry, but that is priecisely what I 
shall do, unless you sign the papers which I have 
here, all in readiness. I had them made out in 
St. Louis. Gudlep. 

GuDLEP. — (from out side) yes sir[en^ers Gud- 
lep RIE.'] At your service sir. 

Edwin. — Good. Did you find a place to get 
the knife sharpened ? 

GuDLEP.— No sir, but I purchased one at a Jew 
pawnbrokers below here, which is as keen as a 
razor. 



33. 

Edwin— Very we'l, that will answer the same 
purpose. At a Jew pawnbroker's you say? 

GUDLTP. — Yes sir. 

Edwin.— What kind of an individual. 

Guci-ip.- - A Jew, SII-, Willi a big t^orporasity. 

Edwin— Ha! and did you notice or learn wliat 
bis name xs'i^ Florence cries) 

GuDLiP—1 just chanced to glance at his sign, 
sir. Isaac Isaac.-i, is his name. 

Edwin— Is it possible! The very man I want 
to see. He skinned out of New York, two years 
and a half ago.(?'o FlGrence)Co\\\ey come, you baby, 
dry up your bawling. WUl y<»u sign lliis paper, 
or have your throat cut, in preference?(^o Oadiip) 
Gi vt; uu- ihe kmie, Gudlip, aUM prtp.ir i»» .>. izc; 
her. [Gudlip handa knife in Edwin a d tliry both 
roll up Hwir abeves; Ebn-ence dots not speak until 
she S' es tkey are r( ady.) 

Fdokencf — No, no; I will never sign them, 
you i)^nnn\\{druws revolvers on both men; both 
fallback suprl-ied.) Gel oiit of the ro'jiu, or as 
God I- my j.idL-e, I will put a i.ull t through both 
of your biack hearts! Go, go or both of you are 
dead men. Do not ihitik that I cannot shoot or 
ain afraid or you wii find (kH vonr ini^iake. I 
have in secret been preparing for this hour when 
1 hhould need to defend myself against you two 
human wolves. 

Edwin — [to Oud^ip'jWe cannot do anything 
nioie with her at present. IShe is on guard, and it 
wou.d be dangerou to tritle v\iLli her. 1 shall 
lirst have to coax around her, riiake apoligies, and 
any amount of ijromises, a d that way redu. e her 
suspicion and waLcuiuiluess. Next time v\e will 
use revolvers instead of knives. 

Floke>ck — Are you goiug?(^o?!/i bow and exit 
R\E) My God what shall become of me— what 
shall become of me? {puts revolver in her breast) 
T( o think thai man is my husband and I am hid 
wife!(ea:i^s LIE; end of second scene) 



34. 

Scene 3. A broker shop in AO. counters on 
both side of stage she/ves back of counter with a 
vuinker of articles on the shehfs ar>d counters. 
Inaac Isaacs, sitting back of counter, Edwin stands 
in doorway as scenes are shfted. 

Edwin — Ablthis is the place, as I tbought. 
Helio, Mr. Isaac Isaacs. This is the last place ia 
the ^'^ orld I should expect to find you. 

Isaac — Eh? you vassurprised ter vind dtroldt 
vanderihg Jew way out niit der West, hey? Veil, 
pizntss got so slow in de city, und I vas so ferry 
poor, dot I vas forced to pull out. Who vash you, 
onnyhow? Ish you Dan Jones? 

Edwin — Oh, no. 

Isaac— Philip Scheider, den? 

Edwin— Nor Phil(). 

Isaac — Isb dot so? Den you must be dot t'itf 
Jake Wchwoitz, vot saddle away mit a tray of my 
gold bunding gase vatches Aha you vas Jake. 

Edwin— IV ixy, old man. You don't know nie 
I guess. 

Isaac— Oh, don't fool mit yerselt. Isaac vas 
no such a large fool as you snbbose, I twig 
you as^ii de poys used der say. You ish Hynian 
Schmidt, der brick bocket, vot left sum sdoien 
silvervare mit my pawnshop, for vieh I got six 
veeks id Sing Sing brison. Yaw dat ish shoust 
who y< u be. 

Edwin— Ha, ha, old man, you're wTong 
again, I don't tl ink you know n>e, at all; never 
knew you, at least, intimately. My name is 
Edwin James, the millionaire. I succeeded to 
old Ralph Long's estate. 

Isaac — Ish dot so ? You succeeded in ptating 
ould Ralph Long, eh? Veil dot vas pad. Ralph 
couldn't have held a goot hand, den. You had de 
most glubs an' drumps, no doubt. Unit you 
name was Jones? Yaw I remember. 

Edwin— But old man, I have a little business 
^ith you, which we can just as well transact now, 



35. 

as any other time. What do you know coucern- 
iug the will of the late Ralpli Long deceased ? 

Isaac— Hey? how vas dot? 
Edwin — What do you know about the will of 
the laje Raioh Long deceased? 

Isaac— Ish dot so? Ralph vas ceased drink- 
ing, den? Veil dot ish goot. We ustd to vas 
elejiandt friend.'', ant took our lemonade straight. 
But sumdimes Ralph he would get • o full as a 
ped-pug, unt I hoti to carry him home in my 
arms. Yaw, Ralph he was halt a vill of his own, 
unt he could tigliC like sum dwo or tray sitting — 
Pulls. I dell's you. 

Edwin— 6b, nonsense; you don't und rstand, 
at all. 

Isaac— Yaw, I understand ferry goot, my 
foundation vas ferry large lor a sniciil man iike 
me. 1 wear s^ixteens, large. 

Edwin— Hother^itiou! I'm not alluding to 
your l)ar <ai'acity, nor your feet; I want to know 
what you know about the last will and testament 
of Ralph Long? 

JsAAC — Nodinks — literary nodinks. 

Edwin — You lie! 

Isaac— You lie back again, mit yourself. 

Edwin— Look not, you infernal old Jew! 
You'd t)etter out rile me. 

Isaac- JNeider van it so nice as you mi^ht 
dink to agitate a man of njy caliber, sar. I weigh 
just dree hundredt unt sixty live pounds an' swei 
ounces.(^'/i^m laughfi) 

Ei)\viN — ;See here, there's no use of being at 
swords points. You know soniething I desire to 
know. Coiiieover to the tavern with me, and 
take a smile. 

Isaac— Oh, no; I could not leave my shop; 
"some t'ief sneak in and sdole my watches, my 
yacht, unt my diamonds. Den I pe poorer ash 
before. 

Edwin — Then perhaps you keep a bottle here, 
he? 



36. 

Isaac — Nodinks but lemonade, at live tohu i 
a schmell. 

Edwin— Phew, you Jews have no laekino; for 
cheek, at all. Well, here is an X; dish out some 
efyour swill, (laying a hill on the c.ou>iter. Jsa c 
picks it up with a smile and reaches under the 
counter and brings out two glasses and a boiileand 
Jill up g 'asses, arid the?!, thejj both put glass to lips 
and drink.) 

Edwin — Why this is no lemonade; it's the 
best article of brandy. 

Isaac— Ish dot so? Dot ish de kind ol a 
jewsharp I am. 

Edwin— Now, how much do you know about 
the will of Ralph Long. 

Isaac — Nodink? Mister Edwin James — 
nodink I assure you {inching teeth with a large 
bowie-knife) you comes her an' t'ink you bulldoze 
sumtings out off dish jew pawn-broker, but you 
vas ferry mooch niisdaken. Isaac vas so mooch 
smarter as you t'ink he wasn't unt ven you find 
out augh'ink apoud vot you don't know from dis 
jewsharp, you had petter py sume more lemon«de 
at fife tollars a schmell. yaw, yaw, yaw. [Rob 
enters as Snow in a darky costume, with a banjo 
from U. E.) Hello ! ish dot you. Mister Snow. 
[cooning from behind counter and placing chair in 
C of stage). Take a chair unt give us some music. 
I ish a loafer of goot music, aut you haven't bin 
aroundt since wvek pefore next. Mister Bnow, 
dis ish Mister Edwin Junes, tV- m New York. 
{Bob bows to Edwin and then Bob takes a seat and 
tunes up banjo, then plays one piece a)ter which 
he plays a jig and Inaac yteps out and dances and 
keeps Hup until scenes ore shipped, scene three — 
do ed in by scene f our. ^ 



Scene 4 — Front Bush in IG, Oudlip euters 



37. 

^r 0711 Hi E., crosses stage and t?ien returns t* C. of 
ttage. 

GuDLTP— The coast is cipar now for w< rk. 
enters Boh Long as Snow from R\E Oudllp 
meaks up knftckn him down pichs hnn up 
ind takes him off tfte ntaije — hUiwia enters R\ ■.. 
crosses stage sfv> raf titnts udlip enters R\ E] 

Edwin -What made you s » lait-? 

GUDLIP— Oh, I took luatters easy, aud made 
jure of my uanie. 

Edwin— You didn't capture him ? 

GuDiJP— Yes I did — knocked him down, 
t)ouiid hin'j and carr ed him out of town, four or 
Ave mtleM from Newere. 

Edwin— Ddn't kill him? 

(iuDLip — Not much, I left you lo do the 
butcheiintr part. Rhcou I've salted away about 
enough humans to ensure me a safe passage to the 
devils regions. 

Edwin— All right. I'll finis^h the job. Wait 
here tiH 1 iroa d gel my medicine. 

Gudlip— Are you going to use the same stuff 
you fixed out old L«»ng witn? 

Edwin— Yes— the enhalation liquid you gave 
me. 

Gudlip Better stick him with a knife along 
with it to niHke sure. 

Edwin— Ugh ! no! I dete«^t bloodshed, where 
I have to do it personally. The liquid ought to do 
the work 

Gudlip — It will I'll guarantee. {Edwin exits 
^1/?) He has gone for the druiis and while I am 
wailing I will amuse you all with a song.(//*w«ic he 
sings after which tMwin enter R\E.) 

Jdwin— Now lor the spot, itad on, {both txit 
L]E end oj scene 4.) 



SCFNE 5 ji grove 3 G sad music Boh lying in 
C of stage * ound li-'mi and foot. Enters Owitip 
and Edwin, R3 ii. Stage dark. 



38. 

Edwin — Ha, ha, Bob Loner; a&raln we have 
you. {kweliuf/ beside Bob). Gnce before you es- 
caped death, but you shall not dow. 

Bob— You cannot kill me. You murdered 
Bob Long in a most horrible manner, but his 
spirit, clothed in the flesh of the Phcsnix arose to 
haunt you. The PhcBnix is imperishable. 

Eewin — Aha! we will ^ee about that. I have 
poison for you to inhale, which will fix you I 
guess, Gudlip lie this cloth over his face, (puts 
cloth over Bob^sfacf nnd Edwin pours water on 
the clofh and both rise to their feet.) We shall 
have to dig out of here on tomorrow's stag*^ before 
the body is discovered, or that accursed oid Jew 
may accuse us of the crime. I guess the devil is 
done away with sure, this time. 

Gudlip— Undoubtedly! Did you make any- 
thing out of the Jt-w? 

Edwin— Nothing. He's game to the back 
bone. Let us get out of here liveIy.(6o^A ex>t BSE 
Sad music — Bob groans— Buth enters LIE. arid 
stumbles over Bob ] 

Ruth— How dark it is, what have I stumbled 
over, {feels Bob as still'] As I live its a man or boy. 
{lighted stage], The manner is daring, but what 
can have happened him, there is a cloth on his 
face, I smell cologne [kneeling down and putting 
her ear to his chesty He lives but who can it be? I will 
soon find out. {pull off cloth] jumps and stag- 
gers.) What — as «iui e a« there is a God above us 
it is Bob a loved and cherished friend. But he is 
gagged and bound* {cuts the strings and removes 

ffaff'l 

Bob— Where am I ? 

Ruth— With the attic angle. 

Bob— Where have they gone? 

Ruth- Who ? 

Bob— Edwin and Gudlip. 

Ruth— I do not know. 

Bob— That is all right. Help me to rise Ruth, 
[Buthhelps to raise Bob.] 



39. 

Bob— Ha, ha! Edwin jTmes, I said you could 
not kill me and I told you the truth. Bob Long 
the Boy Phoenix is still alive and more daring than 
ever before to haunt you down. 

Ruth — Are you all risht now. Hob? 

Bob— Oh yes. Edwin James' I said you could 
not kill »ne and the Phoenix is still «live and is 
ye' reHdy to continue the battle, {looking towards 
L. U. E. wHh Hhdde.d eyes\ By heavens do my eye 
dec^^ive m» !— no, no th»\y <to not, there is my;friend 
Sam Reel on yonder clifr fii^rhtiuK with a large 
black bear. By hnaven I mu^t save him yet, but 
how — with my ritle and — 

[Ruth raises gun fires and Sam caUs) 

out AH Safe Bob turns and clasps liu h in his 

armes and all three form a picture. 



40. 



Scene 1 — A room m AG , table R2E , chairs in 
propf-r places, chan- Ml er, centre of sta/c; Florence 
sitting tit table reading book Enters Bob from, U 
E, Elorence turns htad, jumps up and exclaims: 

Florence— Bol> Long! 

Bob— Pistol Pete Jr., at your service. 

Florence— (Zeor/?7?5r aqainst m,antle)0\\^ it 
cannot be Do yon think you can deceive me? 

Bob— P stof Pete Jr., the road apent, and 
Phoenix which r<<se from the a^hes of Bob Long. 

Florence — (>icream&) Oh, do not deceive me. 
tell me th** truth and free my mind from this hor- 
rorins purprise. 

Bob — Was I not killed in the explosion on the 
Krtst River? E don t -lee how I can be alive and be 
Bob Long, after being securely hound and left a 
pri^oner in the engine-room of the yacht. No, I 
am Pistol Pete Jr , the road agent, [caide] or Bob 
Long, the Boy Phoeoix. 

Florenc —I d'» not understand, you say you 
were lef( a p isoner on the yacht. 

Bob— And toM the truth. The excursion 
was planned by you t^eloved husband and his 
Itailion butcher, Gudlip,|especially for mydistrue- 
tion, though I knew it not until afterward I was 
engagtd as entrineer, but kuf'w not who were to 
be my pas!aineer«i. Aft'T westru'*k the bay I was 
made a prisoner b^ Gudlip, and he filed thie yacht. 



41. 

Florencw— And—and - 

Bob I was first burned into a crisp, and my 
ashes tossed skyward i*y the explosion. Later I 
canrie to life as tlie Boy Phoenix. 

Fj^orencr — Oh B b, how can you tell such 
a terrible falshoo^i? You can deceive nie no longer. 
{walking over to Bob, he shrinks away from her.) 

Boh— VV bat do you wanl? 

Florexcic — I want you to take me away 
from Edwin James— protect me from his brutality, 
take me and tly to another part of t icearlh, where 
I can live solely in your love. 

Bob— Then you love me, yet? 

Florence -Love you! Dear Bob, I have 
never ceased to love you. I loved you when I 
made the one terrii»'^ tnislakeol my life, in marry- 
ing Edwin Jame?*; I love you still, only with a 
passion ten-fold hW^u^^v. [throws arms around his 
neck, he throws thern ' ^] 

Bob— Don't, remtmuer that you can be noth- 
ing to me, while you are his wife. 

Florence— But, he is wild, reckless and dissi 
pated, and if bv some courted act of ruffianism he 
^ould die. what then? 

Bob— Don't give me conundrums to answer. 
My»name is Pistol Pete .Jr., and I am not now a 
marrying man. You cho^e a vili.iin in my place, 
three years ago. and will have to abide with your 
lot. You w^ili confer a favor by not mentioning 
me to your amiable bu band, as he might kill me 
again, which would put me to the trouble of once 
more rising from my ashes. I bid you a pleasant 
good-evening, Mrs. James. {6oi6'-, and exts UJS. 
J^lore7iee exits R2E Edwin enters TJE., 8''t8 dotvn 
and commences sraokiing. iSam ente 8 from JJE., 
walk6 over and taps Edwin on the shoulder,) 

vSam — You have lost some of your lormer prac- 
tice, I guess, old fellow. The time was, three 
years ago, when you were the terror of all the faro 
and keno games in New Y^ork. (;ooA;m.(jr around) 

Edwin — Who are you? I don't know you. 



42. 

Sam — Guess not. Three years covers old 
tracks of gfuilt, 'and pats Dew faces on old acquaia- 
tance. My name is Will Raymond, detective. 

Edwin — And a consort of Bob Long, also. 
Ha, ha! but T guess I du remember you. Y(^u 
were Demon Dice, ou the Missippii? 

Sam— Probably. We detectives have to get 
ourselves disguises sometimes, and associae with 
the worst of villains, such as you and that Italian 
dog of vours. 

Edwakd — Look out, sir, or you will repent 
your woad.-! I will tolerate none of your insolence. 

Sam —Ob! you won't eh? Well miybe 
in preference, you'd rather tolerate a pair of brace 
lets {displays.' handcuffs.) Reitjembei, that you 
fire warned in Nt^w Y<<rk, and IM justas lievf? 
take you as not.{Gudlip etitersLlJE.) So you had 
better keep quiet, if you don't want to get your 
neck stretched .(iS'cMn exits U. E. Oadlip crosses 
over to Edwin. ) 

Edwin— You saw that man? 

GUDLip— Yes, I see'd him. 

Edwin— Well he is a detective, and is on our 
trail. Hewili attempt to arrest us, soon, if we 
give him the chance. You must follow and find 
where he holds fo, th, s) t mt we can lav for him. 
It is as much to your interest as mine, for he 
knows thf tri th. 

GuDLiP~I'm going back to New York, we've 
been dogged ever since we left. In the city a 
better show 

Edwin— Of getting nabbed if he steps out of 
doors. Here in this country a man is safe. Bob 
Ijong is dead; that leaves only this Raymond to 
shake otf, and then we shall i>e without enemies. 
{Oadlip exitH UE., Edwin picks up book and com' 
mences reading Bob enters from U E, stands aftw 
minutes and then laughs. Edwin turns round and 
exclaims:)You\ my God, what mockery is ail thi^? 
{Bob 'with a wave of his ha- d)Whsit do you want? 
Why do you come here? 



43. 

Bob — To pass a few n.oments of time, while 
the sht riff aud his men are s?earchin«^ for me in 
tiie crowd, yonder. I spied you up here, oanie up 
audi eked the door behind nie, atid here we ae un- 
less you ai tempt to call ^oras^l^tau e, wheu I sliall 
iieoes«arily i»ave t<^ bullet doze you in the latest 
Carolinastyle. Besides I have a lilt lo business to 
transact with you— wish to relieve your mind, fe*it 
yoti sul)ject irie to be a f^upernatural. Send me a 
lucifer, please. {Kdwin luindn Bob his rmnich case 
Boh takes several and lights cigar afUr which 
returns c<(se to Edwm.) Was up to call upon Mrs. 
J., several h(»urs «go, but we didn't a)>pear to be 
very happy. Living with a natural born human 
wolf, is not what it is cracked up to be. I warned 
her, however, before she married you. 

Edwin— Si'ie isjets treated well enough constd- 
erin^ that she i^ onlv my unsuspecting sla^se. 
The girl was never legally made my wife. 

Bob — I think you are mistaken, I know it 
was part of your plot \\ ith Hardy Kindt to have a 
mock maiiiHge performed, but it so happened that 
L'lnofi the deceas-ed Boebmiau, had more powei ov« t 
the student than ids cousin, yourself, and as a 
natural result, he. Kit dt, was induced to send a 
real miniMter of the j^o^^ptl in his place and so 

Edwin— You \\q\ {springs to his feet) You 

Bob— 8h![c?ra?^irj^ dagger.^^^i>\\Ge^o{ raising 
your voice quite so loud; remember that the 
Sheriff" is below, and wants a fellow something 
after my style and disposition. It's the truth- 
nothing but the truth, that you are legally bound 
to her who was Fl )rence Thornley, and I happen 
lo possess duplicate papers, to show for it. So 
this little information will furnish you lood for^ 
future meditation. Perhaps you would like to 
know how I eacaped the two traps you so generous 
ly laid for me? 

Edwin— M'^re than all else. It would enable 
me to obtain a clearer apprehension of the case. 

Bob — Very well. There being no more stage* 



44. 

to stop to night and having a little extra time I 
don't mind telling you. In the sterm of life which 
we live, we never kVow when we are to be strick- 
en. I was of course i< nf> rant of peril— ignorant of 
the helish trap you liad laid for me, until Gudlip 
caught me at a disadvantage, and made ine power- 
less. Then, When I s iw him set Hre to the yacht, 
the wiiole truth flashed across mp brain, and I 
knew to whom 1 owed this threatened death. In 
vain I str-mrgled ta free myself. Not because I 
was afraid tft'dip, did I struggle. I only yearned to 
get free fft^the sake of revenge. And 1 was 
distained tj*-iiave my wishes ^rantitied. Sudden- 
ly a fii?ur6l^^ped from the burning hold, when the 
flames were rsgiog madly and my bonds wnie cut 
and, I Mas pitched head-foremost into the bay 
thrO*«^b the port hole where I had been sitting 
at t^ time of my capture, [looking out the door.] 
The pext minute my old 'hum and Bohemian 
par#, Sam Reel, cacie after me and I knew to 
wh^ih I owed ray life. He knew Gudlip to be a 
ras^£ll, and scenUnj; crime he concealed himseif 
abdkfd— quite luckily for my welfare. We swam 
outinto the bay, at k safe distance, and floating 
upcwD our backs', allowing the tide to wash us 
ashore. The next dry I arrived in town, and had 
the pleasure of reading my own obituary. That 
affair on the Mis'^ippii was clever enouerh, but I 
did not give you a chance to nab n-e, as you would 
have lilied, no doubt. But at Dead City, you 
again got the best of rue. Your villainous Italian 
again laid me out when I was^not expecting him, 
anc^ then you came to finish the job. That was 
intended for a poisonous inhalation, that you put 
upon the cloth and spread over my face, eh? 

Edwin— Yes. 

Bob— Well, it was the most grateful poison I 
ever inhaled. By m stake you had brought along 
yotir perfumery bottle in the place of your poison, 
and saturated the rag liberally with Prt^uch 
cologne. I take the present opportunity to thank 



45. 

you, for in those daya I was not able to purchase 
an article so pleasant to the smell. 

Edwin— You have been cursed fortunate, 'but 
you cannot always resist death, whether you call 
yourself Devil, Piioenix, or wliat. 

Bob— T do not iuteud to give you another dig 
at me. I shall keep watch or you. When I feel 
in a proper disposition, I shall arrest you and take 
you back to New York, and swing you off a scaf- 
fold within Sing Slug walls for double murder. 
Ah! Edwin James, you have fewer secrets from 
the Phoeni x(/oo/cm(/ around) than from 
the old B<.b Long. I saw you l.-ike the life of our 
un(,-le; I was llie dar e»y who so b'tlitie' you 
1 was ilie sham M. Sardon, wboni v ou so kindiy 
chucked down in tbe sewer. But for Ibe ein|)'i- 
n'^ss of tne subierrane :i^ passage, I prob^by 
shou'd never have estapel. 

Edwin— You have been every thing but the 
devil, and a part ol him. (t( iiiy? 

Bob— Yes I eloved < ousin, iliouirh I assure you 
itcauses, nie much soirow lo part from so angle a 
being. We shall meet again, 1 trust. 

So don't crowd on your neighbors I advise you, 
With the thought that you'll triumph again, 

For 3'our enemies ' all will critcise you, 

When 1 flap up the truniph card and win. {ExitSf 
{enters Isaac Isaacs from UE E'hvard rises, 
picAs up cane and walks over towards Isaac ) 

JSAAC — Ooot morning, Mr. Edwin J m(S, 
{Holds Iiaiid Old.) How you vas? ( hoke.) 

J DWIN — Riglit well, bow are you? 

Isaac — Oil. I>a;ic vas alw tys der same; poor 
and bealtby. I'll dake lenn uade, if \o\\ sy s<». 

Edwin— Not on my expei se, you wool I 
know you of old— a regular old skiutlint, you are, 
witli more money tban l)rains. 

Isaac— Vas? You t'ink old I aacs vas not 
some jioot deal ptains, eh? Oho! mine Iiiend 
you vas so niucbu misda'^en as nefer vas. Ycu 
find dot Isaac pe a SKi\w^ sure enough, put he vas 



46. 

no vone's shockasp, you pet te sourkriut on r?ot." I 
make you von leedle combliment, Edwin James, 
ven I tole you dot you pe a fool. 

Edwin— What, you call me a fool? You old 
blunderbuss, take that, [strjkps at him wUh cane, 
hut Is'tacJumjDS aside^ leVsgo hufist, and kn aha 
Edwin down.) 

ISA.AC— Yaw, I took dot, unt I o^iff him pack 
again, you pet. ( With a laugh ) Ven you vaut 
some more ofFder same kind, Mr. Edwiu James, 
shust come around unt see me; you see my sign 
mitdot building, ofer yonder— unt a Jewsharp am 
I. {Extts UE., enters Florence L'^E. Edivin 
rises, ivalks over to Florence and speaks in a hoarse 
voice.) 

Edwin— See here, you hussy, do you know 
what £ have just found oui? 

Fi.oRENCE— How should I? 

Edwin— How should you, indeed? ' Why I 
have found out that you are legally and lawfully 
my wife. 

Florence— Why— did you ever think me not 
your wife? 

Edwin — Yes — of course. 1 supposed (hat the 
preacher who married us was a sham, but Bob 
Long's accursed interference made a balk, and a 
true minister was sent — so you are legally bound 
to me, when I had supposed you to be only my 
tool and victim. 

FJiOBENCE— Then God praise Bob Long. 

Edwin— Eh, you triumph? Oh no; you die, 
curse you — you die, and by my hands, and may 
my everlasting curse follow you to the place you 
will go to. {springs, throws hand over her moidh 
a short struggle then strangles her and then 
she falls to the stage. Edwin staggers back.) This 
makes three murders — two more, and I am free as 
I was e're I begun this criminal life— ah! how long 
ago it seems, it is better I should be rid of her. I 
now have her property, as I can easily forge her 
signature. {Enters Qudiipfrom UE of F. 



47. 

GuDLiP— We must fly flp. It is our only hope. 
Sam Rtel, the younjj: detective is now iu lb s very 
building, ready to arrest us, when we come down 
stairs. He bas fifty re^ula'or guHrds, with him 
and we cannot ibink of flgbting. Wbat ails her? 

Edwin— D^ ad. 

GUDL.1P— Great Heavens ! did you murder her 
too? 

Edwin— Yep— ju?t to krep my hand in. But 
come; there is not a moment to he lo^t. 

GuDLiP— No, not a monient is lo be lo.«t. 

Fdvvin — Cnme, let's quite and lock up this 
room, and go up into the attic. PerbMps we may 
find a trypout utonthe loof, by wbi< h we can 
evade the the detectives vigilance, wben'you must 
churttr a conveyance to tmrry u«« to the n^^arest 
railroad station'. {Boff' exit R2E Bob Lohq find 
Scnn r\eel ertterf <>m t A of F. B b walks over to 
Florence and kneels down beside her. 

Bob— 8he bas lieen d'Oked to death, {drj/ing 
tears) Poor girl. Had she but cbo<>en me iM&tt-ad 
of him. But we must not tarry here Sara. The 
domons have escaped by son e unknown avenue 
^nd may even now be fleeing from town. I will go 
in pursuit; you remain here and see that p >or 
Florence bas a respectable l»urial. Ify<u want 
funds go to I-iaac; for some unaccounta«»le r^a-on, 
the Jew has opened his ca-b to our u-e. Now for 
my last farewell Rembei Sam, do as 1 have bid. 
Bob kisses Florence and -SVi??!, remove hnt and Bob 
raises his eyes f>s though praying Tableau, 
droop curtain, raising curtain. 



48. 



-A-OTXr 



BcEHJBl—A streetinlO.j Edwin and Gudlip 
enter from RIE. 

Edwin— Free, we have escaped tbem at last! 
But I would feel more contented if we were ia 
New York, as there we could have a better show 
to conceal ourselves. 

GuDLip— Y<s, still if you had not killed your 
■^ife, Barn Reel would not • e on our track now. 

Edwin— Silence, yon false devil. I'll kill you! 
if you ever throw that into my face again. 

Gudlip— Haven't the least doubt but you 
would try, but f-till it is not saying that 3'ou would 
accoraolisli your aim. 

Edwin— You defy me, then you— 

GuDLiP — I'd defy you, or any other man in 
the face of this fair earth, {ben in(j foriLard) 

Edwin — You shall die, by heavens! curse you. 

GuDLiP — Is that so, you defy me to tay that 
you murdered your wife, and you shall either beg 
my pardon, or I'll face you to tight me with — 
with your own knife. 

Edwin— (asicZe) Curse him! What shall I 
do? {fo Gudlip) Well. I will not beg your par- 
don, but I am ready to fight you at any lime and 
place. 

GuDLiP — The time will be now, and the place 
here, so make yourself ready for to defend yourself 
^Oudlip draws knife^ and Edwin does the same— 



49. 

music— they fight— Oudlip shoivs mercy to Efhvin, 
who beats in the end by thrusti g dagger into 
Oudlip's breast — he staggers andfaHs.) 

Edwin — This removes the iaat one who could 
have sworu my Ufe away. I must ow fly — tly 
before it is to kite. {Enters Bob, Sara, and Isaac 
from R\E.) 

kSAM — JEdwin James, your time has come, !-o 
surrender or go, as your pal. [moving toward Ed- 
luin.) 

Edwin— Nev r. {st bs himsetfand drojys.) 

Bob— He ha^ grown tired of the hunted down 
lite and has taken the hiw into his own hands. 
May God forgvie him and me! 

Isaac — (irood riddnneemif pati rubhiBh! Petter 
ash day had gone dead mil demselves, years aj^o. 
Day vas von pig nuisance on de face ol der earth, 
1 delis you. 

Bob — Well, ify(»u think so Isaac, we'll let it 
drop there. Sam, had we not better call some 
of n)y men and have those men remov<d to the 
•ity? 

Sam — Yes I will call them. (t^'^zV^es^^ree times) 
That will bring them here. 

Bob— You see that they are removed to 
the city and I will go and s?e my beloved, {exits 
R 1 E. supers en ter L\E.) 

Sam— Remove these men to the city(^Aey carry 
men o;ff the stage and exitRXE. End of scen-^ first.) 



Scene 2. Home of Rath Melvine in 4 grove 
a neat and pleasant room. Lace curtains at both 
windows Silso a curtain of red at the double door of 
F.ofC. Bob discovered sitting at table reading 
Ruth enters frrm U E of F. and runs over to Bob. 

Ruth— Oh Bob, is it really you? 
Bob -Yes Ruth dear, it is Bob, for all three 
years have passed since we last parted. I have 



.50. 

had some doubts lest you would not care to see me., 
after knowing my present profession. 

Ruth— Ob, Bob! (Throwing her arms a- 
round his neck.) In the three long years that have 
passed, 1] have looked forward to this moment as , 
the happiest in my life when I should meet you a- 
gain. 

Bob— And is it a happy moment, dearest? 
(Drawing h^r closer and kissing her) 
Can vou, and do you love me, road-agent though 
I am? 

Ruth— I love you with all my heart? 

Bob— Ah! then I have woo my prize by 
waiting, eh? I am to be rewarded in your swett 
little self, for my patience? 

Ruth— If you can get papa's consent. But I 
am afraid he will be very unwilling, after finding 
you are a road-agent. 

Bob— Your papa be hanged! Where is he? I 
want to interview him, come let me know. ^, 

Ruth— r do not know. 

{Enters Mr.Melvinefrom TIE.) 

Mr. Melviue — He is here. 

Bob — Here I am, as you see, Pistol Pete Jr., 
Phoenix, and road-agent. 

Mr. Melviue — Heavens! what does this mean? 
Ruth, child, explain the presence of this yong ruf- 
fian. Sir, leave the room instantly or £ will give 
the alarm. 

Bob— Do it at your peril, sir! I will tell you: 
Three years ago, before I was driven into bank- 
ruptcy on account of the strengency of my mone- 
tary afFaiJS, I met this maiden in New York. We 
resided on the Bowery, a very dignified thorofare, 
and in Mother McAnaly's tenement house, where 
I occupied the first floor — below the roof. Here 
our aaquaintance and love germinated, and the 
seasons - then;:having been rather retrogressive it 
is or rather that the germs of the past have be- 
come ripened aud suitable for harvest. Therefore 



.1 



we do come to you and ask that yoii, as a lawful 
citizeu, and as a motor of ^ood, do give your con- 
that we can lock ourselvea together and express 
ourselves HH made one* 

Mr. Melvine— No, No! No, my daughter 
shall not marry a road-thief,- while I live. I've 
roughed it through California, aud seen my fill of 
these r<»ad-riders. Marvel at your audacirty, sir. 
Leave the room, or I'll — 

Bob — When I get ready; sodon't run «»ff your 
groove, yet. Ruth dear, it is evident that youp 
parent has been drinking or slightly aliei ted with 
the jiiii-jams. I will call again— soon perhaps, aud 
niayhe not for tw^ hours, so do n t despair, but 
keep up. your courage! {Bob catches Huth in his 
armc then kisses her. Mr. Melvine wor/cs himself 
up into a towerin<^/ rage. Bob croses to Ut^ ofF ) 
Adue. You don't appear to be favorably inclined 
toward my suit, now, but time may change 
things. Your daughter the Faith have destined 
Bhill be my wife; sooner or later. 

Mr. M— Never sir! 

Bob— Oh don't you deceive yourself. Good- 
bj'-e, my darling. {exits UE of t .) 

Ruth — Papa, will you forgive me? 
Mr. M — P'orgive you. Never! Never! leave 
this room. Leave this room I say. {Ricth hold- 
ng out hands.) 

Ruth— Oh father. Do not be angry with 

Q 

Mr. M— Leave this room I say, do you hear 
me {Ruth exi'S R\E, Sam enters from UE-^fF. 

Sam Rkel— Mr. Melvin.I believe. 

Mr. M — I believe so. 

Sam— Can I have a few words with you? 

Mr. M— Of course you can, but come into my 
office as we cannot be disturbed there, {walking 
io K2b:. 

Sam— All right, then. So lead on. {aside) 
V\ bet I'll make him chance liis mind about the 
aj; frying of his daughter, {both exit R2,E. Ruth 



enters from UE of F. aud toalks to fable and sitg 
down.) 

Ruth — What has he done? To think after 
waiting so many years and then to tJiink tlat 
my father refused to give me to him. But never 
mind my fatiier shall either cons^ent to Bob mairj - 
ing me or I will leave — leave my father's-house t(>- 
night yet. 

Bob — {from outside) I oall her my v^et, and 
you con bet {enters from UU of F.) Hellow! h^ s 
your dear, dear father changed his mind \e ? 
{enters Mr. Melvin and Sam, Reed from BSE,) 

Mr. M -Yes, her dear papa has cnanged 
his mind and give his daughter to you. 

Bob— Yon do ? 

Mr. M— Yes T do and I ask you to f'>rgi\'e jx e 
for the hasty words of a few hours ago 

Bob — I frogive you freely, {Bob and Ridk ('. 
of stage.) There is but one thing I would iike t 
know, and that is where is my friend Isaac Isaacs 
{Enters Isaac Isaacs from. UE of F.) 

Isaac— He vas here. 

Bob — Now as you are oere perhaps you will 
tell me why you have always gave me m( d ?3 
whenever I needed it. 

Isaac— Yah Bob, my poy, vile I vas spoken 
roit you, I dells you sumt'ngs vat you don't know. 
Your uncle Ral[ h Long made too wills — one in de 
forenoon off der 15th of May, unt one in der after- 
noon off der same day. Ter first one left aid der 
broberty mit Edwin Shames, an vas locked up 
mit der safe; der hat one left in all mit you, so 
helb me gracious. Dis last vill der old man, who 
vas a vriend mit me he blaced in my care, along 
mit me dirty tousands dollars in cash vich I vas to 
keep mit you got old twenty-one years. Yo see 
ash how Ralph Long vasn't afraid der trust der 
old Jewsharp, because ash vot he knew Isaac vas 
an honest man. Veil he vanted Edwin Shames 
ter have der broberty ondil you vas twenty-onet 
den if Edwin Shames, proved ter be a square sor, 



53. 

off a veller, I vash ter giff*you der dirty t'ousands 
dollars in cash; unt distroy der vill I held, vich 
sdill left all der broberty ter Edwin Shames, but 
if der Edwin Shames, turned out ter pe a pad case 
off lemberger cheese, I vas ter broduce der vill, 
unt der vitnesses, unt put you in Edwin Snames, 
place. Dis I should hafFdone; put now der veller 
vas dead, unt der vos no use ter keep der secret 
any longer. 

Bob.— And a right good friend you have been to 
me, in my checkesed experience, Lsaac {shaking 
hands) and I shall not soon forget your kindness. 
My career for three years back has been rather a 
questionable one, and Jew though you are, you 
have indeed proven you i self an honest man and 
none of my friends can 1 respect greater than you 
— ycu shall not go unrewarded. 

Isaac— Eh? was you say? Reward me? Oh ! 
not mooch, poy! If you shust vant to insult 
Isaac, visper sometiugs apoud reward again, aut 
see in vat beautiful style dis jewsharp vill club 
you! Oh! shimming gracious, I put a balcony offer 
mit your eye, like a grossage I vant no re- 
ward you pet your sauer-krout on dose. I unt 
Ralph Long vas vriends, unt dot vas enough! 

Bob — Well, all right, we won't quarrel over 
it. I gue.^s you ah haAe heard his story and I 
hope it will not be long before Bob Long the Boy 
Phoenix, will be forgiven in the past. And you 
now see standing by my right side my right bower 
Isaaclsaacs, the German Jew. 

Sam Reel. 
Isaac Isaacs. Mr. Mel vine. 

Bob Long & Ruth Melvin. 



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